The hot springs was tempting. Though it wasn’t particularly to Setsura’s liking, breathing in the plumes of sulfurous steam keenly reminded him of his bedraggled state.
Princess hadn’t emerged since submerging herself. Gazing up at the sky, she must have sensed something, ascertained Takako’s location or the like. He glanced around through the rising plumes at the rocky area surrounding the hot springs, closed his eyes and nodded to himself.
“All right then.”
Leaving only his black outfit behind on the rocks, the lithe and handsome figure slipped into the hot water. The sensation in his gut—like he’d gulped down a lump of cold lead—made him draw a deep breath. The remnants of Ryuuki’s penetrator qi.
Perhaps Princess had figured it out already, but running across the ground, swinging through the air, that unceasing cold stitch in his side sapped his strength in a flash.
“Man, oh man,” Setsura softly said.
He put his hand on his stomach. A dull throb radiated through his body from his finger—the wound from the mask maker’s village. He had no trouble wielding his devil wires with it—or so he’d like to claim. But he couldn’t deny that slight differences had presented themselves.
A leaf floated in the water a dozen feet or so away. A streak of light flashed through the air. The leaf chirped. Nothing else changed.
Setsura lowered his head and puffed a small breath against the water’s surface. When the small waves touched the edge of the leaf, the little green boat severed neatly in two.
“Damn.” He closed his eyes and lowered his chin to the water’s surface.
“Miss?” Princess asked behind him.
“Yes,” Setsura said, without any evident concern.
“You knew I was here? I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“The same goes for you. You should have known that I knew. You didn’t notice the thread attached to my clothing?”
Princess smiled in a humoring manner. “And knowing that I knew, you decided to take a bath anyway—after protesting so much earlier. You are a mystery to me as well.”
“Huh,” Setsura sniffed, as if to say, a woman understands me? Then: “Keep your distance.”
“Hoh. Am I that frightening?” she said with a seductive smile.
“No, but keep your distance.”
“I would think that sharing a hot bath with a woman is something no man would find disagreeable. Any man who sees me in a hot springs is liable to jump in and join me with his clothes on.”
“The kind of thing that little boys dream of,” Setsura said, retreating as Princess swam closer.
Princess swam around him in a leisurely manner, a shark circling a small fish. Beneath the rippling surface of the water, her white arms and breasts took on an especially bewitching quality. Each stroke of her arms revealed a peek of her fair skin, at once renewed and all the more beautiful.
Her black hair touched Setsura’s arm. “Whoa,” he said.
“Hey!” She scooped up the hot water with her hands, raising a sudden shower as the wave splashed off Setsura’s face. “Do you think playing dumb would keep me from figuring out you’re fighting at half strength? Enough with the tough guy routine. Why do you keep fleeing from me?”
“Because you’re a vampire,” Setsura said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“What’s wrong with that? I am more beautiful than any woman who doesn’t drink blood. And can make a man happier than any of them. Those who have tasted of my pleasures but once present their scrawny necks to me without complaint. A beautiful throat like yours never once came before my eyes.”
“Sounds like you have a fetish for windpipes,” Setsura said, scratching the back of his neck.
The Demon Princess looked into his eyes and asked in a subdued voice, “If I wasn’t the kind of girl who’d drink a man’s blood, would you take me to your bed?”
“Sure.”
The straightforward nature of the answer made Princess purse her lips. “I have destroyed kings and emperors, and you would prefer the company of some stinking mortal woman over me? What manner of man are you, Setsura?”
“I am a citizen of Demon City. The owner of a senbei shop who moonlights as a private detective. Would you like me to tell you something I’m sure you will find perfectly delightful?”
“What?”
“I was hired by a man to do a job, the man General Ryuuki caused to fall asleep at a most inopportune time and whose pride was most grievously wounded. He commissioned me to find you. But he happily joined forces with you, your freeloading house guest.”
“And why don’t you become one as well?” Princess asked, turning slowly around him. “Demon City Shinjuku will become the kingdom of my servants in any case. As long as I don’t destroy it first. Either is fine with me. You and I can always find someplace else to settle down.”
“Such as?” he said with evident curiosity.
“Any place you please. A whole new nation, a whole new world.”
“And make more companions for yourself?”
“The thought never occurred to me. Once I have satisfied my hunger, I leave it to others what becomes of them.”
“Keep at it and there won’t be any others left. What an irresponsible woman you are.”
“All I am looking for is freedom. If the world starts to disappear, I’ll take a nap for a while, and perchance dream wonderful dreams. And if by chance the world ends up dwindling to dust, well, let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. Strolling through the destruction and across the wastelands should provide plenty of its own amusements.”
“So no matter what happens, you always look for the entertainment value.” Setsura sighed. Perhaps because of the hot water, his face was a bit ruddy, the color of cherry blossoms.
“Jealous?” Princess asked enticingly. “Then come with me.”
“Are you going to keep on bugging me with all this changing horses in the middle of the stream? What becomes of your standing as a princess?”
“I take nothing into consideration but my freedom. What, you disapprove?”
“I suppose that also means I’m free to answer however I please. But yes.”
The Demon Princess gazed back at him strangely and didn’t answer. Setsura looked down.
“It’s getting cold.”
Though the billowing steam continued to reach into the sky like twining serpents, the water around Setsura was definitely losing its heat.
“Do you remember what happened to that cranky old witch? Draw and quarter her and she dies. But not you. Shall I have you taste the suffering of having the flesh rent, the bones broken, and never dying? You who spurns my proposals?”
Not said in anger, nor with any eerie air, but like a different person. A feeling beyond the human—that should never be held by one human against another—coiled around Setsura.
His head slumped, as if in fear. He looked at the water, as if entranced by his reflection there, this beautiful genie. A still, small voice froze Princess down to her bones.
“You said you drew and quartered her?” Setsura said, his head still bowed.
The expression on Princess’s face changed all at once. The water grew all the colder. The steam cast off a winter wind.
“We have met before,” she almost hummed. “I thought there might be someone lurking inside you. But that is you as well.”
“You said you drew and quartered her?” Setsura repeated, answering her song with one of his own. “Before that, you became two as well. With my threads. You brought those memories to the surface, woman. The manner of Galeen Nuvenberg’s death.”
His raised his face, his beautiful face. The face of an evil angel at the moment of death. Those brows—those eyes—that mouth—that nose—the lines drawn by a heavenly artist and guided by divine will had been transformed into the incarnation of Rakshasa, the Hindu devil.
“A man like you is not unknown to me,” Princess said, not stirring an inch in the now freezing hot springs. “We met in a London fog, a man who killed his friend and trampled his grieving daughter underfoot. An intense and thrilling man, but alas, one born of the opium dens. The two of you are different. As different as heaven and hell, and both fearfully beautiful. Enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck. The you that you are now—who are you?”
Princess quietly backed away, without raising a ripple. A red ring wrapped around her left shoulder. The arms dropped off at the joint. Without the slightest sign of pain on her face, she picked them up and stuck them back where they belonged, then sunk down into the water.
Her black hair spread out like streams of blood. Bright waves flowed from Setsura toward them. As soon as they touched the strands of her hair, they changed into thousands of threads that twined around them and sank into the depths.
Setsura devil wires warred against Princess’s hair. The rest of her body followed. As if following suit, Setsura submerged himself as well.
The waves stilled, the sun reflected brightly off the surface of the water. The dark green and blue sky calmly set the stage for the opening act, revealing nothing of the death struggle going on below.
Several seconds later—the red-streaked foam churned up. In a flash, it spread out like a net cast upon the waters, speaking of a singular conclusion.
But did the blood belong to Setsura or to—at that moment, a rumble shook the air. The heavens convulsed.